


London Drabbles

by Primarina (PastelBrachypelma)



Series: Nursery Rhymes to Sing in the Dark [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Horror, Domestic Fluff, Family Fluff, Fluff, Food, Found Family, Multi, Tags to be added, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-06 04:03:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21220259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PastelBrachypelma/pseuds/Primarina
Summary: Drabbles set in the universe of "London Bridge is Falling Down." Timelines vary. May contain spoilers! Spoiler content will be warned for in the notes.





	London Drabbles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPOILERS FOR "LONDON BRIDGE IS FALLING DOWN"

Crowley was not having trouble sleeping. 

In fact, he couldn’t remember a time when he was getting more sleep, and better quality sleep, at that. He was sleeping deeper and for longer, often napping during the day out of laziness and contentment, just enjoying the warm sunshine of the waning summer.

It was foolish to think that they’d seen the last of Pennywise, not with a dramatic exit like that. Oh no, Pennywise would be back. But Crowley could feel a tentative peace wash over Derry; the monster was asleep, and would be for a while. The clown followed the usual Glamour cycle of feasting and hibernation, which gave Derry residents in general and the Losers particularly a chance to catch their breath.

Perhaps Crowley was also content knowing he had found adequate prey (more than adequate, really, but he was not about to look a gift horse in the mouth) and would continue to live on, protecting the children of London, and now Derry by extension, from monsters, both human and alien. 

He was certainly full enough to sleep. Crowley muffled a belch discreetly into his fist, rubbing his stomach soothingly. The children found his gassiness hilarious, as children are bound to do. Aziraphale accused him of doing it on purpose (which was only half untrue, as he sometimes forced burps to annoy the prissy Agent). Really, it was this form’s fault for not having an easily extendable stomach. It wasn’t as if he wasn’t digesting properly, but the process was slow, and because of the pressure condensing the prey in his stomach, it made him feel absolutely stuffed. So much so that even one cup of coffee would make him feel bloated! (It wasn’t exactly an unpleasant feeling, and it was certainly preferable to the aching emptiness he’d felt for over half a century, but it was responsible for making him drowsy all the time.) He’d really have to transform into his “real” form for a while and let nature run its course.

He supposed the clown could be so energetic because he was a spider under all that frou-frou. Taking little nibbles out of your prey whenever you needed a pick-me-up was a more efficient model than having to swallow prey whole in one go, but Crowley found that his method suited him. When performing a rescue, it was best to get things over with, and not linger. He shuddered to think what might’ve happened if Bev or Eddie had walked in on him sucking marrow out of a bone that used to belong to their parents. Yes, it was for the best. He could deal with the tightness pressing against the walls of this restrictive stomach if it meant less trauma for his children.

Lying sprawled and relaxed in his hammock, Crowley stretched with a soft grunt, settling down again with both legs crossed at the ankles resting just on the rope of the makeshift bed, his hands folded neatly behind his head. He turned, surveying the camp. It was a warm, muggy night with plenty of mosquitoes elsewhere, but pesky insects knew better than to dare enter his territory. However, fireflies winked in the depths of the dark forest beyond, crickets and frogs and cicadas sang, and a cool breeze settled over the camp like a heavy blanket. Bev and Wren were sharing a bed (not out of necessity, but simply because they wanted to), and Katie’s bed lay nearby, her rabbit and a new teddy bear from Georgie tucked snugly in her arms. Jack and Eddie were asleep on the other side of the clearing, Jack tucked in on himself like a cat and Eddie starfishing with his mouth open. Crowley chuckled warmly, closing his eyes.

His hypersensitive fear senses were alerted to the nightmare immediately, and the Glamour got up, identifying it was Katie after a groggy moment of confusion. (That was a downside of being as stuffed as he was; his fear senses were slightly dampened, since he wasn’t hunting.) Crowley sat down beside her writhing and whimpering form, gently touching her arm. As expected, Katie awoke with a start, her eyes filled with tears. She took refuge in his arms immediately, and Crowley rocked her gently, shushing her.

“I-I had…” Katie sobbed.

Crowley nodded in understanding, nuzzling into her hair. “Shh, it’s okay, Katie. I’m here now.”

The bed nearby stirred, and Bev sat up, rubbing her eyes and yawning. “Waz’ppinin?” She drawled in a half-asleep rumble.

“Katie had a nightmare, that’s all,” Crowley reassured her quietly. “You can go back to sleep. I’ve got her.” 

To his surprise, Bev crawled out from under the covers until she reached the end of the bed, waking up Wren, who sat up, revealing the reddish-brown mark made by the pillow her face had been squashed against a few minutes ago. “‘S Katie?” Wren asked, concerned, joining Bev at the end of the bed. “‘S she okay?”

Before Crowley could answer, the boys awoke behind him, Eddie wiping drool from his chin and Jack stretching with a drawn-out groan. The Glamour sighed fondly; well, everyone was awake now.

“Katie!” Jack got up from his bed and sat just behind Wren, peering over her shoulder. “‘S Katie okay?”

Eddie padded over to sit behind Bev, still the groggiest of all of them. “Bad dream, eh?”

Katie sniffled, sliding down into Crowley’s lap. She nodded her head against Crowley’s sternum. “I dreamt Pennywise took Georgie’s arm, ‘n Bill was upset, ‘n…” She shook her head as if trying to erase an image from it. “‘N his teeth ‘re scarier ‘n daddy’s.”

The older children exchanged looks of terror and shuddered. Crowley felt the fear spike again, and sought to soothe them instead.

“It’s just a bad dream.” He pressed a kiss to the top of Katie’s head. “None of that dream happened in real life.” He smiled tiredly at the children. “You’ve all been very brave, you know, facing down a powerful, well-fed Glamour. You did something unexpected, and that isn’t to be sneezed at.”

“But is he gone?” Eddie asked. “Will he come back?”

Crowley hummed, looking away. That gave them their answer.

“I knew it,” Bev shook her head. “I could feel it.”

“It’s not time to worry about that yet,” Crowley soothed, resting a hand on Bev’s shoulder. “You’re safe here, and your friends are safe in Derry. We’ve made sure of it.”

The children reflected on that. Katie yawned into her sleeve and Crowley smiled fondly. 

“All right. Back to bed. The lot of you.” He gestured absently as he helped tuck Katie in.

“Sing me a lullaby, daddy,” Katie yawned, snuggling up with her toys under the covers.

“You can sing?” Eddie asked as he was climbing back into bed.

“Yup,” Jack jumped into his bed so hard the springs creaked. “Dad’s got a nice voice.”

“Thank you, Jack.” Crowley replied, grinning shyly. “Well. I suppose one little song can’t hurt.” 

Glamours, of course, do have lullabies. They are a musical species, and they thrive in loud, boisterous environments. Crowley had taken a very common Glamour lullaby and modified it to make it slightly less terrifying. 

For, yes, while they do sing to their young, their most common lullaby is one that is meant to be sung to their prey. 

“Dream of me,” Crowley sang in a low, crooning voice, “dream of me, when you wake, I’ll be there. Dream of me, watching you. Dream your sweetest dreams for me.” He hummed a bit in the tune’s melody, glancing around him. Katie had settled in to sleep right away, but his older children were still watching with sleepy, bleary eyes. Crowley meticulously tucked each child in as he continued to sing. “Dream of teeth and dream of claws, dream of warmth and sun and all. Dream, these things, they cannot hurt. Dream until the sun shall lurk. Know that you are safe at last, calm within my fleeting grasp.”

Crowley circled the clearing again, still humming. The ancient tune made his eyes glow bright and, had there been human children anywhere nearby, they would have flocked to him in droves. After all, that’s how the Glamours learned that children were an easy and tasty meal; should a Glamour be too weak to hunt, their voice would draw in prey from miles around.

But he felt calm because of the song. No hunger or desire to feed, no instincts that came with hunting behavior fluttered to the surface. Perhaps he’d been a broken Glamour from the start, for he’d never used his song to catch his food. (Well...not that it worked terribly well on the adult humans he tended to hunt...but that wasn’t the point.) Ever since he’d decided to change the words to the old lullaby, he’d used it to put his children to sleep. 

Useful for the few times in his history when he’d rescued infants.

Crowley yawned with a fair number of his teeth. The moon was high, and the comforting heaviness in his stomach was lulling him to sleep. He lumbered over to his hammock and settled down into its center, sighing as a well-fed warmth spread throughout him.

He could sleep easy knowing his lullaby had erased their fear, and knowing that Pennywise had forgotten how to use the power of his voice.


End file.
